Author – Grant
Based In – New Orleans
Today’s Photos – http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157614344630079/
Don’t be fooled by the glib title of today’s blog – it’s more of an achievement than
you’ll ever know. Whilst first reading may lead you to guess that it was a figuratively impressive feat because of the amount of drinking and debauchery on offer (of which there was much, by the way), it is actually a more literal achievement given that there was a gunman spraying bullets just half a block from where we stood that put seven people in hospital, including the friend of friend (who was dressed as a cow, of course) who was talking to us just moments earlier but nipped a few hundred metres east to get a burger, took a ricocheted bullet in the side and got a night in hospital, a decent scar and a cool Mardi Gras story that he’ll be telling until he is too old to pull. The moral of the story? Fast Food is dangerous. Note for mum - I’m writing this in Houston which means we’re out of danger and whilst I have your attention, I have loads of clean pants and behind my ears are almost biblically clean.
That’s enough of the negative, headline grabbing part of the day though (although, just to conclude the story, we did see
the shooter sprawled over the back of a cop car as he was being arrested later in the day) as the rest of it was a blast. The first parade on Fat Tuesday (Zulu – an all black parade celebrating it’s 100th outing this year) is an early start for even the most hardened drinker which leaves parade goers with three choices. 1) The Old Person’s Choice – Be there to see the parade but limit yourself to drink nothing harder than a root beer. 2) The Average Person’s Choice – Be there to see the parade and crack open your first alcoholic beverage not long after your mailman has delivered your post. 3) The Young Person’s Choice – Drink throughout the previous night, arrive hammered and don’t stop drinking until your mates spill you into a car many, many hours before sun goes down. Amongst our group of revellers, we had representatives from each of the three groups. Kate was the designated old person as she didn’t crack her first beer til almost midday but then she was the designated driver and we did have a lunch reservation 26 hours later that she wanted to make. The majority of the rest of the party sat in the average person’s group as we’d had a fairly low key evening prior to Fat Tuesday in anticipation of the impending Leo (that’s some rhyming slang for the American readers with “Leo Sayer” referring to an “All Dayer”…aren’t we a clever nation). As such, some beautifully strong Bloody Mary’s were mixed on site not much after 8:30am and the day spiralled alcoholically thereafter. And then there was Jeff, Miles’ younger brother who, in
summary, arrived smashed from a monster night out on Monday, got more smashed, used various fast food stuffs as missiles (including a burger from the now infamous rapid fire burger van), had to be taken home but then more than redeemed himself by rejoining us later on and continuing to slam down beers like a real American trouper. He’s my hero. And he gave Kate a new nickname – Ranga, which is short for Orangutan, another genetically mutated animal missing nature’s most important gene that avoids red hair colouring.
I could clearly fill page upon page with descriptions of the various costumes and characters on display both on and off the floats but luckily we were both seriously snap happy so I’d suggest scrolling through the attached link to get your fill of semi-naked, satirical, comical, attention whores. Now I know what you’re all thinking – But where did you wee? Well don’t worry, we found a super-clean $1 a go bathroom run by four generations of locals with a Buy 3 Get 1 Free Offer.
The weirdest thing about the day is how early everything finishes. Pre-Katrina there used to be a late afternoon parade that ensured the party went well beyond sunset but these days the final truck parades are all done by about 3pm. Luckily for us it was a beautiful, sunny day that just begged to be drunk in so standing around the streets sipping a few cold ones whilst listening to the various eye-witness accounts of the shootings was no hardship whatsoever. Once 5pm rolled round it was decision time - head to Bourbon Street which would probably resemble a cross between a Frat House and Darfur, or don’t. We chose don’t in favour of another fine burger at Beach Corner with the now fully recovered Jeff who, remarkably, looked like he could have gone on for another 10 hours. Unfortunately, we couldn’t.
Based In – New Orleans
Today’s Photos – http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157614344630079/
Don’t be fooled by the glib title of today’s blog – it’s more of an achievement than
you’ll ever know. Whilst first reading may lead you to guess that it was a figuratively impressive feat because of the amount of drinking and debauchery on offer (of which there was much, by the way), it is actually a more literal achievement given that there was a gunman spraying bullets just half a block from where we stood that put seven people in hospital, including the friend of friend (who was dressed as a cow, of course) who was talking to us just moments earlier but nipped a few hundred metres east to get a burger, took a ricocheted bullet in the side and got a night in hospital, a decent scar and a cool Mardi Gras story that he’ll be telling until he is too old to pull. The moral of the story? Fast Food is dangerous. Note for mum - I’m writing this in Houston which means we’re out of danger and whilst I have your attention, I have loads of clean pants and behind my ears are almost biblically clean.That’s enough of the negative, headline grabbing part of the day though (although, just to conclude the story, we did see
the shooter sprawled over the back of a cop car as he was being arrested later in the day) as the rest of it was a blast. The first parade on Fat Tuesday (Zulu – an all black parade celebrating it’s 100th outing this year) is an early start for even the most hardened drinker which leaves parade goers with three choices. 1) The Old Person’s Choice – Be there to see the parade but limit yourself to drink nothing harder than a root beer. 2) The Average Person’s Choice – Be there to see the parade and crack open your first alcoholic beverage not long after your mailman has delivered your post. 3) The Young Person’s Choice – Drink throughout the previous night, arrive hammered and don’t stop drinking until your mates spill you into a car many, many hours before sun goes down. Amongst our group of revellers, we had representatives from each of the three groups. Kate was the designated old person as she didn’t crack her first beer til almost midday but then she was the designated driver and we did have a lunch reservation 26 hours later that she wanted to make. The majority of the rest of the party sat in the average person’s group as we’d had a fairly low key evening prior to Fat Tuesday in anticipation of the impending Leo (that’s some rhyming slang for the American readers with “Leo Sayer” referring to an “All Dayer”…aren’t we a clever nation). As such, some beautifully strong Bloody Mary’s were mixed on site not much after 8:30am and the day spiralled alcoholically thereafter. And then there was Jeff, Miles’ younger brother who, in
summary, arrived smashed from a monster night out on Monday, got more smashed, used various fast food stuffs as missiles (including a burger from the now infamous rapid fire burger van), had to be taken home but then more than redeemed himself by rejoining us later on and continuing to slam down beers like a real American trouper. He’s my hero. And he gave Kate a new nickname – Ranga, which is short for Orangutan, another genetically mutated animal missing nature’s most important gene that avoids red hair colouring.I could clearly fill page upon page with descriptions of the various costumes and characters on display both on and off the floats but luckily we were both seriously snap happy so I’d suggest scrolling through the attached link to get your fill of semi-naked, satirical, comical, attention whores. Now I know what you’re all thinking – But where did you wee? Well don’t worry, we found a super-clean $1 a go bathroom run by four generations of locals with a Buy 3 Get 1 Free Offer.
The weirdest thing about the day is how early everything finishes. Pre-Katrina there used to be a late afternoon parade that ensured the party went well beyond sunset but these days the final truck parades are all done by about 3pm. Luckily for us it was a beautiful, sunny day that just begged to be drunk in so standing around the streets sipping a few cold ones whilst listening to the various eye-witness accounts of the shootings was no hardship whatsoever. Once 5pm rolled round it was decision time - head to Bourbon Street which would probably resemble a cross between a Frat House and Darfur, or don’t. We chose don’t in favour of another fine burger at Beach Corner with the now fully recovered Jeff who, remarkably, looked like he could have gone on for another 10 hours. Unfortunately, we couldn’t.
Massive thanks to Miles and his family for their extremely kind hospitality during our stay in New Orleans. We’re here for another day before leaving Wednesday but unfortunately we won’t get to catch up with the Landrums any more as New Orleans returns to normality and they all have to work. Luckily for us, however, the holiday continues indefinitely and tomorrow we get to dine at Emeril’s before taking in a Hornet’s game. Life continues to be hell for us…
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